


The Fall of Moriarty

by WriteNow



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteNow/pseuds/WriteNow
Summary: Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty had been dating for 2 years when Moriarty shot himself in the head, on the roof of St Bartholomew's Hospital. Now Sebastian has to deal with the monumental loss of his lover. Should he take revenge? Can life ever be the same? And can John Watson help him move on?





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is set after Season 2 of Sherlock. It is written from Sebastian’s point of view. It updates regularly so make sure to subscribe, leave comments with suggestions and give kudos, so I know what you want to see more of.

It happened yesterday. I don’t know if I can even tell you what happened yesterday. My world ended. My life was torn apart. My best friend, my lover and my boss were killed, with one bullet from one gun. And he did it to himself. Details are still coming through but we know that for sure. He did it to himself. 

 

I don’t know why he did it. I mean, of course I know why he did it. He did it to destroy Sherlock. And that succeeded, but the cost of that success was way too high. Yes, Sherlock’s dead, but James is... James is dead too, and that’s not right. He didn’t even get to see the future he was working for.

 

I keep hoping that it was a trick. James Moriarty can’t be dead. He’s a genius. An immortal genius. He would never let himself die. But he was so obsessed with Sherlock. Maybe he would. I could never completely understand how he felt about Sherlock. He was so determined to bring him down that anything’s possible. Anything’s possible. Well, I suppose ‘anything’s possible’ means that it’s possible for him to come back. I really hope he does because it’s tearing my life apart, and it’s only been one day.

 

I woke up this morning and the other side of the bed was cold. I was brushing my teeth and when I saw his toothbrush I started crying. I went to make a coffee and when I saw the tea he made me buy, I cried again. I always hated tea but he was so insistent that I tried it, so I bought a packet. I still hated it. But seeing it sat there reminded me of him so much. I don’t know how I’m going to live like this. I have to go away somewhere for a bit. James paid me very well so I can afford it, but it feels wrong to use his money to go on holiday, just days after...he went.

 

James hired me to be his right hand man in dealing with Sherlock but now that’s been done I’m at a loose end. I just sit places. I sat in Green Park, I sat beside the London Eye, I sat at home. But them I knew where I had to go. I needed to go back to where it all started: 221B Baker Street. I watched the flat for a while, and then I went to get a coffee from the shop underneath. That’s where I am now.

 

I don’t know what I’m going to do next. Part of me wants to go and smash the whole place up and kill anyone inside. Another part of me wants to talk to John Watson. I don’t know what to think about him. He was Sherlock’s best friend, that means he’s bad, right? But he lost someone on that rooftop as well, maybe he would understand. I decide to look upstairs. Either way, I need to meet John Watson, before I make my decision.

 

I go up the back stairs through the café to get to the flat. I knock on 221B’s door but no one answers. I knock again, but there’s still no response. I don’t know what to do now. Maybe I’ll have a look inside? Is that bad? Well, it’s breaking and entering, that is bad. It’s illegal. But I did lots of illegal things with James. The things I did back then were much worse than breaking and entering. We killed people. I think about James. His smile, his kiss, his strange habits that nobody but me could understand. James wouldn’t want me to be here. He wouldn’t want me to talk to John Watson. But then James isn’t here. I don’t know what I’m doing. I need to go home, before I do something I might regret. I turn and head back downstairs.

 

Click.

 

The door opens and John Watson looks at me. He’s been crying. That’s why he didn’t answer the door.

 

“Yes?” he asked, looking at me. What do I say? What do I do?

 

“Dr Watson?” I ask, stalling.

 

“Yes. Your knocking sounded quite urgent. What is it?”

 

I might as well tell him. It would be worse if I didn’t. “My name is Sebastian Moran. Can we talk?”

 

“About what?” he asks.

 

“Erm,” I begin. What do I say? “I know that you were friends with Sherlock Holmes.”

 

He flinches. I can see so much of myself in him. My memories of James. His memories of Sherlock.

 

“Are you a journalist? Is that what this is about? Can you not leave me alone?” He’s getting angry now.

 

“No, no. I...My boyfriend died. On the same day as Sherlock died. I just...I...I thought...I wanted to talk, to someone. And I thought you might be able to understand. If you want me to go, I will.”

 

His face softens a bit. “I’m...sorry for your loss,” he begins. “You can come in, just give me a couple of minutes to tidy things up a bit.”

 

“Thanks,” I say, looking down at my hands. This is a bit awkward. He shuts the door again. I hear him moving around. Plates bang against each other, cupboards are opened and slammed, he’s rushing around, there must be a lot of tidying up to do. The door opens again.

 

“Come in,” he says. 221B is quite neat. My flat is so messy compared to this. John can’t be doing too badly if his flat is this tidy. Maybe that’s good, in a way. If he’s gotten over it this quickly then maybe I can too.

 

“Sit down,” he says, gesturing to a couple of armchairs and a wooden seat in the corner of the room. I sit in the armchair nearest the window. He clenches his teeth together. Have I done something wrong? I feel like I have. John sits in the armchair opposite. And then I realise. This was his seat. This is where Sherlock sat. It must be hurting him more than I realised. I slowly get up and sit in the wooden chair. It’s not as comfortable but John gives me a nod of thanks, so it’s worth it. We are two very broken men.

 

“So...Why did you want to speak to me?”

 

“My boyfriend died, on the same day as Sherlock, and I just thought we might be thinking similar things.”

 

“Hang on, Sherlock wasn’t my boyfriend,” he interrupts. I’m not too sure about that but I just nod.

 

“I didn’t know what to do. I’m lost without him. I needed to talk to someone and there was no one there.”

 

“What was his name?” John asks. If I say ‘James Moriarty’ he might hate me. If I don’t, am I lying?

 

“James,” I answer, quietly. This is hard. This is really hard.

 

“James, who?” John asks. There’s no way I can avoid this now. I have to tell him. Maybe it won’t be a big deal. After all, I could blame him for James’s death, but I don’t. There’s no way he could blame me for Sherlock’s death.

 

“James Moriarty,” I try to say, casually. As if I don’t know the relevance of that name.

 

John’s fists clench. This might not go as well as I hoped. “James Moriarty,” he repeats, slowly.

 

I look down and whisper, “Yes.”

 

John stares at me. His eyes are boring into my soul. He fixes me with a steely glare and quietly says, “Get out.”

 

He looks dangerous. I stand up. “Get out of my flat!” He’s shouting. “Do you have any idea what Jim Moriarty has done? What he did to Sherlock? What he did to me?”

 

“I’m sorry,” I say, backing out the door.

 

“You had no right to come here and I swear, if you ever come again, I will kill you!” He slams the door in my face.

 

What do I do now? I knew it was a bad idea coming here, I just hoped things might have been different. Of course, they couldn’t have been different. I was stupid to think they might have been. People watch me as I walk back down the stairs. They must have heard the shouting.

 

I can’t stay here. I can’t stay anywhere. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do about this...life. I don’t want it. I don’t want it anymore. I can’t live in a world without James. I know that he wasn’t the villain that John thinks he is. But who else will believe me?

 

I walk home. It rains. I don’t put my hood up. I cry. I walk. I cry. I walk. I open the door and go up to James’s study. What used to be James’s study. I unlock the secret drawer underneath his desk. He didn’t know I knew about this. I never thought I’d have to use it.

 

I open the drawer and inside lies a gun. My salvation. I slowly pick it up and weigh it in my hand. The cool metal holds the weight of all it has killed. I hold it up to my head.

 

I can’t believe I’m doing this. It just feels right. I should lie down. I should sleep on it, at least. But I can’t.

 

My finger lies on the trigger. One little pull, one little push, and them all of this is over. I can be with James again.

 

Suddenly, it seems so obvious. This is the right thing to do. I give myself a countdown.

 

3

 

2

 

1

 

The doorbell rings. I ignore it.

 

3

 

2

 

It rings again. More urgent. More insistent.

 

3

 

It rings. It rings. It rings.

 

I sigh. I should check who it is.

 

I slowly lock the gun away again and go downstairs.

 

I open the door.


	2. Opening the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian receives a package from a visitor with a huge surprise and learns much more about James than he ever knew when he was alive. He understands that James is finally gone, but he still doesn't know if he can accept it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter. Again, subscribe to know when I update, leave kudos and comment with feedback.

I open the door.

 

A well dressed woman with black hair stands on the doorstep, holding a package. "Hello," I say to her. She looks at me, slightly worriedly, is it that obvious that I've been crying.

 

"I have a package for you. From Jim Moriarty. He asked me to deliver it to you if... if he died."

 

"Oh," I don't know what to say. "Who are you?"

 

"I'm his sister, Jessica."

 

"He never mentioned he had a sister."

 

"Did he mention he had a brother?"

 

"No..."

 

"Well, he did. His brother's a train conductor, I'm a businesswoman."

 

I can't believe he didn't mention it. He never really talked much about his family, or his life before crime. We always spent Christmas with my family. We always went on holiday together. "Do you want to come in?"

 

"Thank you," she says. I open the door and let her come through into the living room.

 

"Do you want a coffee? Then we can discuss..." I gesture to the package that is now sat on the coffee table.

 

"I'll have a tea, thanks."

 

James always had tea. I wander into the kitchen and take a teabag of James's favourite tea. I make myself a coffee too. I wonder if James's sister will like the same type of coffee that he did. Is that how these things work? Can taste be hereditary? I'm not sure. I suppose it's about what food you ate when you were a baby and when you were growing up. Maybe that means she will like it. I finish making the drinks and take them back through to the living room. I grab a couple of Jammy Dodgers on the way out. They were James's favourite biscuit too.

 

I place the drinks on the other coffee table and offer Jessica a Jammy Dodger. "No thank you. I hate those things. They're ghastly. Did Jim make you buy them? He always used to love them. He made mum buy them every time we went to the supermarket."

 

She takes a sip from her tea. "Good choice. This is my favourite brand of tea."

 

"James made me buy it. He used to drink it all the time."

 

"Oh. We never used to agree about anything. That's probably why he didn't mention me. He didn't mention his brother because he was jealous of him, but he didn't mention me because we always disagreed. Still, we loved each other." She looks down. I guess she must have loved him. She doesn't seem very emotional. James wasn't very emotional either, I always used to cry at films and he wouldn't even blink.

 

"So, is he really gone, then?" I ask. "I keep imagining that he'll come back, that I'll open the door and he'll be waiting for me, that he'll phone me up and be there." I start crying again. She watches me. She doesn't say anything. She just watches me. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be upset. I mean, if anyone should be upset, it should be you. You were his sister."

 

"It's perfectly understandable that you would be upset. Jim really loved you, and it looks like you really loved him."

 

"Thanks. What were you going to say? What's in the box?"

 

"James left it for you. He didn't tell be what was in it, only to give it to you. He gave me a letter as well. There's other letters too, but I don't know if I'm allowed to tell you what's in them."

 

"Oh. Can I see the first one?" She nods and hands me the letter. The envelope seems expensive. It's addressed to me: Mr Sebastian Moran. The back of the envelope is sealed with red wax. It has the shape of an M pressed into it.

 

I open the letter and read it:

 

_Dear Sebastian,_

 

 _If you're reading this letter then I'm dead. I'm sorry I had to leave you, but I'm sure I did it for a good reason. If I destroyed Sherlock, then my mission succeeded. I can die happily, and you shouldn't worry about me. If I didn't destroy Sherlock, then I'm afraid I have a favour to ask of you. I need you to kill him. I'm sorry, Sebastian, I don't want to have to ask you to do this. I know you don't really like killing people but I hope you can do this for me. And whatever you do, make sure you get your revenge on whoever killed me. Whoever_ _they are, I hate them, and you should hate them too._

 

_But enough of that. It's time to tell you about the box. I've left you a few gifts and many more letters but this first one is my favourite. I know you've always loved travelling, and I think you might need to get away for a break, so I've organised a trip for you to go to New York. I've asked Jess to go with you, so you have some company. I'll admit, she's not always very talkative, but I promise she's alright really. Hopefully you'll become friends, I don't want you to be lonely. The trip's for two weeks, you have a room in a 5-star hotel and you'll have a personal tour guide. Jess has more details._

 

Don't be too lonely without me. Please, I don't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. But please, you have to understand, I'm gone. I'm not coming back. You have to get over yourself _. You have to get over me. You have to move on. You can't sit around crying or waiting for me. Continue living your life. I've left plenty of money for you, so don't worry about that. Just try and move on._

 

_Enjoy the trip. I'm sure you will. Have fun. Live your life._

 

_Goodbye, Sebastian Moran. I'll write again soon._

 

_James_

 

I put the letter back down and look at Jessica. "So, we're going to New York?"

 

"Yes," she answers. I hope she says a bit more on the trip. Otherwise it's going to feel a lot longer than two weeks.

 

"Do you want to open the package?" she asks.

 

I'd forgotten about the package, I was so distracted by the trip. James is right. I  do need a break. To think that less than an hour ago I was going to...

 

I open the package a look inside. I pull out a nice suit. It looks very expensive. I also take a pair of binoculars out. I suppose I'll bring them with me on the trip. Finally, I take the largest object out of the box. It's an old wooden globe of the world. I admire the fine detail that must have gone into making it. Jessica lets out a small gasp.

 

"What?" I ask, looking at her.

 

"Sorry, it's just that the globe was from our parents. It's been in our family for generations. When they finally died, it went missing. Nobody knew what had happened to it. We all just assumed it had gotten lost but Jim must have taken it. We used to spend hours playing with that globe. When we went on holiday, we would trace the flight's journey with our fingers and try and guess how long it would be. The winner got to sit by the window on the plane."

 

That's more than everything else she's said to me combined. Maybe she's warming up to me. I'm about to say something else but she stands up.

 

"I should probably be going now. You need to pack. I'll meet you here on Friday at 7 in the morning. See you soon."

 

"Ok, bye," I say, but she's already left.

 

James. I don't know if I can move on. I'm not sure it's going to be that easy.


End file.
